


Far From Being Enough

by TremblingHandsWriting



Category: TharnType the Series (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Declarations Of Love, Denial of Feelings, Fluff and Angst, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23551627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TremblingHandsWriting/pseuds/TremblingHandsWriting
Summary: He had told him once, unsure whether it was a question, an answer or a statement to himself just so Tharn would calm down from his sulking, and Type would be able to keep him hidden. Hidden. Inside this room of two where they exist as more than friends yet less than lovers; as two people who could touch, kiss, and fuck each other’s mind out whenever they are horny.
Relationships: Tharn Kirigun/Type (TharnType)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 119





	Far From Being Enough

**Author's Note:**

> _Inspired by the events from episode 1 to 6 of the series, with just a little bit of my imagination being extra dramatic. Please be mindful of the tags._

[ _“…and if I have to watch my back every time you’re around, I’d better sleep with you this once and get it over with.”_ ]

The first time he kissed his handsome roommate on the lips, Type was fucking desperate. He was giving himself an ultimatum; either be indebted to a person who belongs to a group of people that he despises all his life, or just be gay for one night.

Type chose the latter, and his handsome roommate could only smile as he ate the dark-skinned boy up.

“This would be enough for now,” Tharn whispered into his ears as Type struggled to keep his moans down when Tharn’s huge thumb dipped slightly into the slit on his cock as he was about to come, and he could feel the bruising kiss his roommate left just above his left nipple a few seconds after that.

Type only went to his soccer practise two days later, but the soreness stayed for the whole week.

*

[ _“What am I to you?”_

_“You want me to say ‘your boyfriend,’ don’t you?”_

_“I hope so.”_

_“…A casual lover.”_ ]

He had told him once, unsure whether it was a question, an answer or a statement to himself just so Tharn would calm down from his sulking, and Type would be able to keep him hidden. _Hidden._ Inside this room of two where _they_ exist as more than friends yet less than lovers; as two people who could touch, kiss, and fuck each other’s mind out whenever they are horny.

He knew right then that his words had hurt Tharn, but he also knew that the latter was happy enough to plant kisses over his clothed skin, from his torso down to his waist, past his half-aroused cock and thighs. He watched as Tharn stared at him from the floor, calloused palms holding onto his foot and warm breath tickling his ankle.

“At least this casual lover only belongs to you,” Tharn had told him.

But all Type could hear was

_Make me yours_

And that aroused him so much that he couldn’t even wait for Tharn to finish unbuckling his belt before he started licking the latter’s bulge a few minutes after that.

The sex that evening was rough yet passionate, and Type couldn’t remember a time before this if it had ever felt so good when Tharn was inside him and panting, searching for his relief like this. He discovered that he never paid attention to Tharn’s face when he came, and he surprised himself when he blurted _‘beautiful’_ out of nowhere.

He was glad Tharn couldn’t hear it over his own thrumming pulses.

*

[ _“Will you stop doing Number 6?”_ ]

There was usually a sense of safety when Tharn was on top of him, enveloping Type’s entire being as he peppered him with soft kisses. Even when he was stripped off his clothes and had his blushed skin entirely revealed to another man’s eyes – something that used to be so disgusting and traumatising for him before he met this casual lover of his – Type had never felt naked nor fragile whenever Tharn was touching him.

If it was anything, he felt powerful to have a guy as well-built as Tharn to be guided by his every soft groan and needy moans. To keep being checked upon every time he was being penetrated—

_Are you alright?_

_Am I too rough?_

_Do you want me to stop now?_

_“Fuck you Tharn, just fucking kiss me!”_

— and pampered with rough hands pressing gently yet firmly on his stomach and hips so he wouldn’t move too much and hurt himself; Type enjoyed having all of these attentions to himself.

But two nights before the Friday that he promised to spend with Puifai for her birthday, Tharn had climbed into his bed without a word as Type was drifting off to sleep. Without even letting him a chance to turn around and be surprised, or maybe letting out a few curses, the warm hands aggressively tugged on the waistband of his boxer until it went down to his knees.

Type loved the way he was being held down by Tharn whenever they’re fucking, but it was always with them looking into each other’s eye and whispering dirty words to blaze things up. He would always have his hands fisting recklessly into Tharn’s hair, dull fingernails digging at his sweaty scalp while his blunt mouth taunted his partner about his ugly haircut, and all Tharn would do was thrusting into him deeper to the hilt and made him gasp breathless.

But that night was different. A quiet Tharn who wouldn’t even let his face be seen had violated the base of his nape with his teeth to the point that the bruises stung when he showered the morning after. There were prints of his palms on the insides of Type’s thighs as he tried to part them so that his erection could go through, and he didn’t even seem to care that Type was limp and unwilling to his advances.

Type hated that night so much, but he hated himself even more for allowing it to happen. He hated the fact that he couldn’t say anything to whatever Tharn was doing to him, and he hated this heavy feeling of guilt he had weighing on his throat down to his gut the worst.

 _“Enough…”_ Tharn had whispered against his shoulder when Type accidentally let out a sob against his sweaty palms as Tharn tried to forcefully push his cock in, and slowly Type could feel Tharn’s hands leaving his body. There’s a deafening silence filling up the room as he was lying on his bed, exposed and violently trembling – there were flashes of a single chair in a dusty storeroom, a man with a crooked smile and the pain of the rope against the skin on his wrists, _oh dear God the pain_ – and for the first time since they started to call each other ‘casual lovers’, Type decided that Tharn does have the ability to scare him sometimes.

He hated everything about that night, but he hated it even more when Tharn gently wiped him off with warm towels, clothed him and tucked him to bed without even an apology.

“Tharn you bastard. I hate you. You fucking bastard, I hate you so much,” he cursed with no conviction at all in his voice, and still no apology came from Tharn’s mouth. All he gave was a kiss on Type’s head, and as his vision blurred due to tiredness, he saw his casual lover slowly walked with his head down back to his side of the room.

Maybe Tharn was wiping his eyes, maybe he could hear some soft sobbing sounds coming from the bastard, but Type was too exhausted and too angry to even care.

Tharn didn’t touch him at all after that night. He wasn’t even in the room most of the time. The only text message that he got concerning him during these few awkward days was from Lhong letting him know that Tharn will be crashing at his place after their band practice.

He had to hold himself back from asking Lhong about their sleeping arrangements, or whether Tharn was really sleeping there or in someone else’s bed. It would be weird if he suddenly cares, yes?

There was no apology either, and Type didn’t expect one to come from him at this point of time, especially with what happened. He didn’t know why, but he felt as if he didn’t deserve one.

*

[ _“So… you are mine now?”_

 _“It’s you who are mine.”_ ]

He returned to their room of two on Friday after climbing over the gates as a result of missing the curfew. Puifai’s perfume was lingering around the collar of his striped shirt, and he could still feel her slim fingers hot and angry against his cheek. Climbing up the stairs, he chuckled pitifully at Puifai and himself for being unable to take the leap when everything was basically written in the book of a perfect life for them.

Everything was perfect, _everything_. He had a girlfriend who wanted him, who was soft and sweet and nice and beautiful. A girlfriend who cooked for him and wore pretty dresses to impress him. He should have been wanting her, too.

But why, in God’s name, why would he think about his roommate’s husky groans and musky scent when Puifai was kissing him? Why would he compare Puifai’s bright eyes with Tharn’s mischievous gaze?

Her soft thighs to Tharn’s sturdy chest?

Type knew he was going crazy, so that’s why he stood for almost fifteen minutes in front of their room’s door, trying to figure out what was really happening inside his mind. He stood, and then crouched with his head between his knees, wishing for the floor to open up and swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to deal with this heavy burden inside his chest.

Weird to think that said burden only appeared once he thought about Tharn kissing another man. It only hurt when he imagined Tharn exchanging teasing lines with a stranger he never knew about. How it burned him inside out thinking that Tharn would be calling out a different name other than his, how the soft smile that he always pretended to miss after every make-out session would be enjoyed by someone else.

It tortured him to know that he allowed all that to happen, and in those fifteen minutes of him trying to make everything make sense, his mind could only conclude one single thing for his every reason: **he wanted Tharn.**

 _I want him?_ He asked inside his head as he slowly turned the key and the door clicked open.

 _I want him._ He repeated with doubts, checking to see if he had locked the door properly, and made his way towards his roommate’s bed.

 _I really want him._ He assured himself, and funny how this thought almost knock him out of breath as he saw Tharn’s lonely back greeting him instead of his usual teasing smile.

“I want Tharn,” he told himself almost hypnotically as he climbed into the bed and apologised to his roommate for the first time, ever.

*

Their kisses have always been full of hunger, of longing, of wanting, ever since the first evening that Type lied about letting Tharn have his way with him just once. Type was too nervous back then to see how Tharn was slightly trembling as he kissed him back with the small cube of ice between their lips.

The touch they planted on each other’s body was always inadequate and will always be so; Type first discovered this the morning after they made love all through the Friday night to the break of dawn that Saturday. He discovered it as he touched Tharn’s soft yet heavy hair from the back, accidentally finding out about the answer to his own question as to why Tharn always kept that ugly bowl cut hairstyle.

_Such stubborn hair, just like its owner_

“Having fun?” the clicking of the keys was a little distracting, and Type had wished for Tharn to turn around and…

_And do what?_

“Yes.” He lied because this wasn’t fun enough. Touching Tharn only this much wasn’t enough. There’s a black hole starting to open up inside Type; slowly getting bigger, wider, more demanding.

Every touch he had ever given Tharn was always a reciprocation. A return of a kind gesture.

Type listened carefully as the dam’s walls inside his head started to crack, and there was a huge flood of thoughts waiting to burst out from his brain to his mouth.

Probably a word of wanting, he wasn’t so sure. But he knew it’s going to be embarrassing, and Tharn would hold it against him until they die.

_As if he’d let Tharn dies before him_

“If you’re having fun, then just keep doing it,” Tharn continued, and Type could hear the cheeky smile in his voice. Weird, now he even liked the smile that once annoyed him so much.

His palm on Tharn’s nape was not enough, but he’d have to make do with this for now. His fingers were cold as they pulled Tharn by the chin, taking him by surprise.

_This isn’t a return of a kind gesture anymore,_ Type convinced himself as his lips flowered and bloomed on Tharn’s.

_This is me telling you that I want you,_ he agreed and then pretended to take a nap.

_Tharn, you bastard. I can’t even say I hate you anymore._

*

[ _“But you already know that I’ve always been yours.”_ ]

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this couple, and I surprised myself with how easy I wrote about the almost non-con sex here. Anyways, glad to have this off my chest now.


End file.
